Captain
by fateofawakening
Summary: Kuroko Tetsuya hates basketball. And he's finally free from it. But why does he feel so empty, when he should feel nothing but happiness from having escaped that dismal trap? Just when he feels as though he has nothing left, a certain glasses-wearing black-haired boy proves to him that there is hope for the future, after all. *short story, completed*


He had quit.

He had finally quit.

He hated basketball, and had relished in the triumphant feeling he'd received upon slamming his resignation form onto the Activities Director's desk. He had walked out of the office, head held high, because he didn't need to be a shadow anymore. He could smile, he could laugh, and he could _try_ and make himself more visible, because all these things he'd thrown away for the sake of basketball were once again made possible.

Kuroko Tetsuya had quit basketball.

Basketball had once awed him. It had been, to him, an entirely new world of fun, happiness, and the joy of playing and winning together. It had been a form of exercise, a hobby, an escape, the place where he met his closest friends and felt like he'd belonged.

He had once loved basketball, not just because of the exhilaration or the joy of victory or anything else – no, Kuroko Tetsuya had loved basketball because it was a competition where everybody worked together to achieve a common goal. Nobody could win by themselves; it was a team sport, a team effort, and everything was done _for the team._

That was what he'd used to think.

Aomine Daiki had once said that he admired Tetsuya for the hard work and effort he always put in. He had tried to help Tetsuya get better, because "talent wasn't everything."

How ironic.

No; in the end, basketball had done nothing but take his friends away from him. It had taken up his time, his energy, and even his money; it had exhausted him both mentally and physically and had caused issues when it came to academics; it had seemed like a warm, inviting place to belong and have fun with others who shared a common love, but it had ripped that away from him in an instant.

Kuroko Tetsuya was a shadow. He couldn't win by himself. He had no talent for basketball. And now, they didn't need him anymore, anyway. He had been cast aside yet again, like a piece of trash, fluttering in the wind as it waited for everything to end. All his hopes and dreams had come down crashing, shattering like glass, the relationships he'd wanted for so long broken like frail branches.

He hated basketball.

And he hated it for a long time. As winter slowly passed, Tetsuya went from school to home to school to home. He was in Midorima's class, but the two never spoke. Tetsuya lived life the way _he_ wanted, without having to abide by Akashi's rules, or having to listen to Murasakibara's ignorant arguments, or continually tripping over Midorima's lucky item. He no longer tolerated Kise or watched in slight envy as Aomine effortlessly made basket after basket, shot after shot.

No; it was all over for him.

And yet, why did he feel so empty? He should've been elated to have finally escaped it all. Basketball had brought him nothing but a world of hurt. Winning was nothing. Winning wasn't important at all. But basketball was a sport in which everybody went for the win.

He hated it. He hated it so much that he slipped out of gym class whenever there was even a remote possibility of touching basketballs. He hated it so much that he trashed his basketball shoes, his trophies, and the ball itself. He hated it so much that he shunned his old teammates, rudely ignoring Momoi's constant efforts to talk to him.

The pictures were shoved into a desk drawer. Their contacts were deleted from his mobile phone. He avoided the convenience store, the street courts, and asked his mother to stop making tofu soup, because it was the redhead's favorite. Kuroko Tetsuya remembered strange things like this, and he wished it would all stop.

He was no good. He was a supporting player, merely a tiny piece of the puzzle. The others could all play perfectly well on their own, and that was precisely why he envied them so much. Talent and hard work were, in the end, opposing ideas. And now that they didn't need him anymore, well... there was no more reason for his existence on the court.

He had never fit in after all. He had always been the oddball, the odd one out, the strange boy who was there one moment and then gone the next. He was forgotten on a regular basis, unnoticed unless he spoke up, and basketball had been _the only_ thing he'd ever done where his lack of presence had been a miracle.

It was all useless now. It wasn't worth it. Basketball brought nothing but pain.

As winter passed, and Tetsuya considered his high school options, he realized that he had no preferences. They were all fine. He might once have considered the schools' basketball teams to see which one he would best fit into, but there was no need for that now, of course. It was completely irrelevant.

As he walked home that day, he absentmindedly returned to his old route, passing by the street courts. Too late in realizing his mistake, he froze as he heard the familiar sound of a basketball, thudding against the ground, somebody angrily declaring to somebody else that he would carry on for him.

Kuroko Tetsuya would never forget those words. They were filled with raw pain, with memories, with all the feelings that surrounded him, as though this person had gone through exactly the same thing he had.

 _"You – listen up! You just go on, have your surgery, whatever! I don't care, you idiot! We might have nobody join the club this year, and you'll be gone. But we're going to win the Inter-High, and then we'll win the Winter Cup, and after that is Kyoto – whatever it takes to become number one! So you just sit back and watch, and we'll do all the hard work!"_

He had stood there for a long time, watching the black-haired boy yell his heart out to an unseen person hidden by the bushes at the side of the rode. _"We."_ Because they were a team, and they would become number one together. Perhaps they wouldn't have enough players, but they would still try their hardest.

His heart was aching in his chest, as the boy took a step back and shot a beautiful ball, right into the hoop. His feet eventually started moving again, mechanically, a thousand emotions rushing through his mind, but the next day, he had made his decision.

"Ah, Kuroko-kun... any particular reason for your choice?"

"No."

"Well, that's okay. Seirin's a great school, although it's new – I'm sure you'll be fine there. Good-bye, Kuroko-kun; it's been a pleasure."

"You too, sensei."

That black-haired boy had been defeated somehow, too, but he hadn't given up. He had big dreams. He was determined to win as a team, to play as a team, to struggle and triumph as a team. He was, Tetsuya thought, a lot like him.

And the boy's words stayed with him for a long, long time, as Tetsuya's final resolve was made: he would show the Generation of Miracles _his_ basketball. He would show the world what basketball was supposed to be. Because in the end, basketball was fun. It wasn't about winning or losing; it wasn't about how good you were, or what natural talent you were born with; _it was fun._

He met the boy again, having enrolled in Seirin. Locating the basketball club's table, he found the two manning the table busy with another student, and so he grabbed a form and silently filled it out. He wondered who the boy had been talking to that day. He wondered if his dreams had changed yet.

But when he looked up again, right into that boy's eyes, he could see the steely resolve in them. This boy – this boy was out to win, but not like the Generation of Miracles had been. This boy was out to win for the sake of somebody else.

It wasn't until much later that Tetsuya learned the truth. But it didn't change anything for him – if anything, it made his respect stronger – because he had found his path.

Because he loved basketball. Basketball was fun. It had shown him that even he was something more than just a piece of trash, carelessly tossed away.

And if anybody ever asked him why he'd decided to continue playing basketball after that initial period of defeat, he would smile just a bit and remember that black-haired boy, whom he'd come to know quite well. "Well," he would say, fondly recalling memories, "my captain showed me a new path to take."

And he never regretted it for one instant.


End file.
